"He who lies on the first day of Ramazán repents on the day of Bairam," returned the Jew, quoting a Turkish proverb, and grinning. I was struck by the words. Somehow the mention of Bairam made me think of Alexander's uncertain fate, and suggested the idea that Marchetto knew something about it.
"Yes," I answered, looking sharply at him; "and another proverb says that the fox ends his days in the furrier's shop. Where did you buy the watch?"
"Allah bilir! I have forgotten."
"Allah knows, undoubtedly. But you know too," I said, laughing, and pretending to be amused. Paul had resumed his seat upon the small divan, and was listening with intense interest; but he knew it was best to leave the thing to me. Marchetto was a fat man, with red hair and red-brown eyes. He looked at me doubtfully for a moment.
"I will buy it if you will tell me where you got it," I said.
"I got it"—He hesitated. "It came out of a harem," he added suddenly, with a sort of chuckle.
"Out of a harem!" I exclaimed, in utter incredulity. "What harem?"
"I will not tell you," he answered, gravely, the smile fading from his face. "I swore that I would not tell."
"Will you swear that it really came from a harem?" I asked.
"I give you my word of honor," asseverated Marchetto. "I swear by my head, by your beard"——